I woke up with the disastrous idea that I should have a baby to give me company. I don’t even have a life that would be stable enough for a pet fish, so a tiny human is out of the question. While waiting for the house to sell, I’m living like a hobo. That damn house. The realtor says lowering the price won’t make a difference because there aren’t buyers on the market at any price. She says I should be patient. That is likely my largest area of skill deficiency.
Besides that I have nowhere to keep a baby, I have no way of creating one unless I transform into one of those fish that goes back and forth from being male and female so it can impregnate itself. Of course, that would produce a tiny version of me and that’s definitely not the kind of company I want. I already have to listen to everything I say and everything I think. I am like mint chocolate chip ice cream. I am not for everyone and I am not for every day.
Constance was a wonderful baby. I was spoiled to get to be her mom. When I envision a baby I see her sweet little face.
I’m a bit of a Chatty Cathy and I worry that my loneliness is making me a burden to my friends who I want to hang out with seven days a week. Lucky for them, my work schedule is such that they get a bit of a reprieve while I try to get everything possible done. Thank goodness for small blessings.
